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Woreth Stane
"Extraordinary! Surely even you can appreciate such design?" '' ''-Woreth Stane History Raised as an orphan among the sages of Il'Sanke in the arid cities of Duhmar, Woreth was taught the most singular important thing that any fool could understand. Knowledge, was power. In the Guild of Sages, you either produced findings, maturing in your studies as a Sage, or went hungry. The Sage Guild consisted of The Four Branches, each symbolizing their craft. The Branch of Flame, represented with cloaks of red, was the study of War. The strongest branch of Duhmar, as it directly served as advisers to Duhmar's War Council. The Branch of Water, represented with cloaks of blue, was the study of Politics. Acting directly as Envoys and Diplomats to the bordering states. The Branch of Wind, represented with cloaks of grey, was the study of Astral Bodies. Mapmakers and predictors of the raining seasons. The Branch of Earth, represented with cloaks of brown, was the study of Histories. Archaeologists and custodians of lost art. Woreth, having such a knack for stories, was indebted to the Branch of Earth Sages, donning the cloak of brown and either intermingling studies in the other branches, or learning ancient dialects in which to translate fragile texts. It was on the recent discovery of Atalomee's Tomb, a ruler of the 3rd Pagan Era, that a clue had been left, hinting at an unworldly power source, hidden within the lost city of Atalamec, named so after his 2nd successive reign. Woreth, along with the rest of his branch, worked tirelessly to interpret the symbols traced over Atalomee's Tomb, hoping to garner results as to the location of this ancient city. They received optimistic funding from the treasury of Duhmar, pushing the elders of the Earth Branch to work their initiates harder to find information. Two years later, they'd cracked it. A location had been determined by the cooperation of both the Branch of Wind and Branch of Earth, having used a mathematical formulae that had been originally formed using the stars. A campaign fund was immediately made, to allow the Sage Guild's four branches to embark for the lost city of Atalamec. The journey by calculation of the Wind Branch, would take three months and two suns to complete. As well as an additional three months and two suns to make the journey home. With preparations all set, an advanced party was sent to allocate resources in a major city near the famed ancient city, without alerting the neighboring states of their intentions. Woreth, though having shown capability in his studies with language and etiquette, was not assigned to join the advancing group. Instead, he was sent on an entirely different assignment with a group of adventurers to help chart landmarks for the Branch of Wind's maps. Uneventful, though this adventure had been, save the sand sharks and bandits here and there, his adventuring party kept him safe, and his efficiency kept them from abandoning him to the dunes. When he returned, the Guild of Sages has formed a new fifth branch. The Branch of Spirit, donning the cloak of purple, and studying the efficacy of magic. Apparently, the etchings and scrolls of Atalomee merited more knowledge than originally thought. Woreth spent the next few months, practitioning in the use of magic, and applying it to his craft. A skill he found most useful in conjuring creatures of different planes to assist in the research of varying texts. From here, it occurred to him to try more powerful entities of distant planes. He attempted binding a devil, but their beautiful lies were evident, and he could not trust them. He tried binding celestials, but their arrogance shown greatly and many refused to help one of little faith. For a task such as this, he knew he'd need to get creative, find a planar creature that loved to travel about. During this short time of study, word came in about the encampment for Atalamec from time to time. Until one day, when a weekly report never came. Odd but not unheard of, the Sage Guild of Duhmar waited for word. Another week passed before their advance Sage Guild reported they'd unearthed an entrance into the lost city of Atalamec and would begin exploring the ruins. There was also a report of casualties among initiates and adepts alike, so further requests for help made themselves known. This was Woreth Stane's chance. He made a formal request to assist in reinforcing the Sage Guild's numbers for the expedition. Practicing his planar binding as he made it closer to the ruins of Atalamec. The Famed City of Atalamec It was here that Woreth experienced true awe. The city, though desecrated, shined with an inner brilliance. The architecture swirled and swayed in such manners that could only be defined as art. His team consisted strongly of his own Earthen Sages, tasked with jotting notes and providing sketches of the buildings they came across. Two weeks in the city proved taxing however. Food provisions were getting low, and the Guild of Sages wouldn't be happy leaving such a discovery unattended. Not to mention, the dreams. Many adepts and initiates talked of horrifying nightmares, of dark silhouettes forming out of the swirling patterns in the buildings. Black tendrils grasping for them through the cobbled, quiet streets. Their screams going unanswered as they plunged deep, deep into the earth. Grumbling complaints and hushed whispers could be heard under ever breath. Many losing their fascination with the city, and wanting nothing more than to leave. While others, the elder sages especially, seemed to get more and more aggressive, assuring themselves there was more to find, that this enticing source of power had to still be there. The atmosphere of the city was starting to lose it's splendor to even the most rational of minds. Some sages reported seeing shadows move, or felt as though they were being watched. Other's started to speak about their night terrors. Woreth himself knew better than to acknowledge such dreams, his studies into the astral plane bore fruit. Knowing the entities of the Dream Plane could not hurt those of the waking Material Plane, at least, not those who weren't magically there. He wondered if perhaps the city was enchanted with spells meant to affect the mind, deterring people such as his guild from defiling it. Perhaps he could find answers from lucidly dreaming? But what he found made fruit sour and rot, then burst and writhe, and grow, and grow, and hunger, and anguish, and angry, and rot, and writhe, and grow, and bend, and twist, and warp, and grow, and stare, the staring, THE STARING! His anchor to the material plane wasn't where it should be, lucidly, he should be waking up, but he couldn't, or perhaps he didn't want to? What was this thing? This thing in front of him. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!" The constraints of time weren't apparent in the Dream Plane, but when he awoke, he did not do so alone. His eyes wanted to see a squid, or perhaps a jelly fish? The anatomy was right, but this thing floating beside him was wrong, and familiar. Too familiar. But as consciousness escaped him again, he'd all but forgotten what it was that he'd seen. His dreams were errant and forgetful from there. Unbeknownst to him, this aquatic entity had been bonded to his person. The Saltborne These distant memories appeared to inhibit what had happened upon the rest of his visit in the city, as well as how he'd ended up in an ocean and washed up on the shores of Fiend's Reach, when his entire journey to Atalamec had been by land. Regardless, Woreth knew he'd have to make due with his hard ingrained knowledge of the collective branches of the Guild of Sages. With nothing but the clothes on his back, he'd need all the help he could get. Knowledge was power. The inability for the human mind to correlate the entirety of it's contents was unacceptable. Appearance Woreth Stane is a scribe of frail build, and commonplace features. Perhaps he'd have been better suited to the occupation of an assassin, as his face easily blends in a crowd. With no books, parchments, or otherwise noteworthy belongings of your typical scholar, he stands out ironically among the folk of Fiend's Reach. When he is able to maintain immaculate attire, he favors the ordinary robe traditional of his Earthen Branch of the Sage Guild. As well as a black swath of hair neatly tied back in a bun to avoid tangles falling into his workplace. Personality In public settings, and among professionals, Woreth can be quite endearing and eager to help, believing in the concept of "potential" and striving to unlock it to those in his company as well as himself. When not in the throes of adventuring, he makes himself at home studying books and deciphering languages. Addled by his inability to remember everything before he came to Fiend's Reach, if one sneaks up on him, they can see the haunted look in his eyes. Perhaps it's just a facade to help him believe he'll be OK, or perhaps there's something worrying him when no one's watching. But someone's always watching. Friends Aside from fellow scholars and the occasional band of adventurers recruited by the Guild of Sages. Woreth doesn't have a plethora of friends. Especially in such a foreign place as Fiend's Reach. Save the enigmatic Eidolon compatriot he's wary of talking about. Enemies Though he may not know it, he has unwittingly gained the expansive gaze of the cosmos' attention. Aspirations To recover his lost memories and all the knowledge he'd learned of the Lost City of Atalamec. Further his knowledge of his estranged Eidolon and it's purpose. But most importantly, gain the wisdom and respect of his academic peers, helping each other to ascend in all aspects.